


Flatliner

by NalaNalani



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, John peacocking for the deputy, Possible smut later, most chapter are based off songs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NalaNalani/pseuds/NalaNalani
Summary: Everyone was really expecting the rookie to be way more bark than bite. They were all wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I can actually keep a schedule up with posting for this!
> 
> This chapter is somewhat inspired by Raise Hell by Dorothy.

Rescue of hostages was definitely something that you, the Deputy, would have expected in this particular situation and had absolutely no qualms about going to rescue them. They all seemed good people willing to spread as much hell for Eden's Gate as they could, and you never knew how many bodies you'd need to turn the tide of battle. Didn't that just sound like something out of a fantasy novel? Like something the hero would say before charging off to single-handedly saving a thousand people from a dragon or something. Yeah, you could see that.

Rescuing vehicles though? That was definitely a bit new, and you were definitely a little skeptical as to just how much a truck would help in this insane little war, but it was incredibly obvious that it meant a helluva lot to Mary May and it wasn't that far anyways. You figured the hour it would take at most could be spared to go on and get it back. Besides, a good, working semi-truck couldn’t be much worse than useful, right? Mary May genuinely thought so. Fall’s End genuinely thought so. You told yourself that you thought so. 

By the end of it all though, you genuinely believed it too. Hell, a semi-truck was one thing, but a semi-truck with mounted guns was another thing entirely. Widowmaker was a name you’d be praising for a little while now. It had been forever since you had the feeling of safety, invincibility even, in a car. Compared to how you usually drove, warily when on roads, and like hell when off them, it felt too good to have absolutely no worries as you rumbled down the road, pushing Peggies and their cars off the road like building blocks. It felt also felt too perfect to have the glorious tune of Barracuda blaring as the theme track to your cursory destruction of cult property and persons. At this point though, it seemed like those were one in the same.

Head bobbing to the beat and fingers drumming on the steering wheel to the guitar riffs, you couldn’t stop the cheeky smile that tugged at your lips and braced as you rammed yet another one of their hideous little vans right off the road, sending its driver diving to avoid being crushed. A drastic change to when you had first heard about the happenings in this sad little county.

At the start of all this, you did feel bad for them. Good people forced into the Project and brought in to serve the Seed family however they saw fit. The more it continued the less you believed that, and the more bats, pipes, and rifle butts you took to the head the more your sympathy faded.

They couldn’t be reasoned with anymore anyways. They were willing to die for their cause, and you had never seen so many people unafraid to die. It was nothing short of downright unnatural, and far too great an amount of unsettling. It was almost like the whole thing in Norse mythology where all the great warriors were sent to Valhalla and they were all scrabbling for a ticket to it. Hell, you’d seen a couple Peggies now scrabble with each other, however brief that was, for who would be the one to take the first shot at you.

You were the one to beat and your throne was built on blood, bodies, and bullets.

The constant feeling of being hunted like some sort of dangerous animal put you on edge, but you fit right in with the rest of the resistance with that feeling draped over your shoulders and tightening around your neck like some sort of malevolent scarf. Your kept the discomfort in your mind and reserved for the ever so brief and sparse breaks that you got, but the town’s folks? They wore it in their nervous glances. In their shaking hands. In legs that bounced when they sat down for a second too long. They needed a paragon of their own and you were that for them. Human and mortal though you were, right now you were elevated to a true hero. Maybe even a god. If those who could tell the story lived on, then regardless of whether you made it or not, you would always be the hero of Hope County.

It wasn’t recognition that you were after though. No fame, no fortune, no war stories for your return home. None of those were what you were fighting for.

Fall’s End came into view a few moments later and you knew they, the whole town judging by how excited they had seemed when first learning of what you were after now, would be waiting for you and you allowed yourself another moment of victory, this time with them as you let the Widowmaker’s horn ring out loud and clear, not letting it up until you had very nearly parked beside the Spread Eagle, Mary May running out to meet you.

Even before you opened the door and hopped out you could hear the cheers. The clapping. The laughter. Hope. That was what you fought for. Hope County had become an oxymoron and you would fix it if you could, or you would die trying. 

You took the praise from Mary May and the others with ease, waving off most of it. All you needed was to see some sort of life in everyone’s eyes again. You definitely got it now. If not for the your demand to see your job through, if not your desire to save your friends from what could very much be a gruesome fate, then it would be hope, the hope others held, that would see you through your arduous task.

\--------------

 

Cool, calm, and collected as he tended to be, there was nothing but for the reversal of time and events that would keep John from tossing the radio he had unceremoniously back onto the table it came from, but with quite a bit of force. Not near enough to break it, but there was a pretty chunk of plastic missing from the corner of it now. Joseph had told him not to worry, to have faith, and that everything would end up just as they needed it to, but he was fucking worrying now. No, no, John Seed was not a man who worried, he told himself. He was antsy. Anxious perhaps. But not worried.

He knew from this start that this Deputy that Joseph seemed so intent on saving with them was smart. Ready. He could tell by her eyes. When she had come in with the others to arrest Joseph, they may have been the one taking orders but she didn’t look like some rookie. There was no fear, no hesitation, no worry. She knew what they were doing and was certain in their actions. Perfectly confident and not to be dissuaded by even the most honeyed of words. There was something respectable in that, a lot of things really, but it was unsettling too. For John, that meant that there would be no persuading her to think twice about their actions. He’d have to work around it and he’d have to get creative.

That could be dealt with when the time came though, or at least when he had cleared his mind because right now he was just trying to wrap his head around how the fuck she had snuck in and stolen a semi-truck. That was probably the best guarded thing he kept, but he wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest that the guards there had been slacking. Probably up and went off to snatch just enough Bliss to get themselves lost in one of Faith’s little fantasies for a couple of hours or something.

For a reason he couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, bring himself to accept, John didn’t want to acknowledge that all of his men just might have been there. That everyone and everything had been as it was. That you were just that damn good. Regardless of what had actually gone down though, you were clearly on the warpath and he had some serious planning and preparations to make. He couldn’t afford to be caught unaware.

You were like some sort of dangerous animal wandering the valley. And what did he do when there were wild animals terrorizing him and his flock? He called Jacob.


	2. Scars

As it turned out, Jacob could send as many people to John's region to help out as he liked and it still wouldn't be enough. It was like the cavalry just never got the chance to arrive. On the whole at least. There were occasions where trucks, or even better, vans managed to slip past your iron grip and over to John’s compound or ranch. Whether you had been too preoccupied to take them down or simply hadn’t seen then at all, John didn’t care. It was something and that was infinitely better than nothing, but it still wasn’t enough.

He had been sitting beside his radio for perhaps twenty minutes now, waiting on Jacob. John had been happy to get in contact with him so quickly only to be shot down by his brother. He was busy, he said. Had important business to deal with, he said. Like John didn’t. He had been waiting very patiently for those twenty minutes, shushing his newest canvas to work with every couple minutes or so. Just some nameless resistance member that had gotten too fired up and had drawn too much attention to themselves. Inconsequential.

John planned on tattooing that on them too before carving it away, though Joseph wouldn’t have liked that very much. But that’s why his older brother never came down here. Here was his place to exude wrath with no punishment other than what he gave himself. It took quite a bit for John to think he deserved much in that way these days. Joseph always said that he needed to love those that would be welcomed into the flock, but he found that idea to be rather… futile. What was the point of putting your affections towards animals that were to be sent to slaughter? It was just wholly unnecessary.

He had begun wondering if it would just simply be better for him to begin his work and make Jacob wait instead. He wasn’t allowed much time to consider just how much that might piss his eldest brother off before his radio finally crackled to life, a gruff sigh saying that Jacob had sat down and was finally ready to give his brother his precious attention. John was the only conceited one in the family, and he liked it much better when it stayed that way.

“I swear if you just wanted to bother me to ask for even more people…” He started off lowly and John just rolled eyes. “Good afternoon to you too. But while we’re on the topic-” Jacob didn’t let him finish that thought before a ‘goddammit’ came through, just between a hiss and a groan. Yeah, John figured that was how he was going to be. “Listen, not even half of them make it here because of that deputy. The best chance we’ve got at capturing them is to stop them early on, so either send more, or escort them here yourself.”

He hated the noise of Jacob scoffing, but that was exactly the noise he was met with. “What, so I can risk getting myself blown up with them?” John’s mild irritation began to fade as he saw his chance to play with him just a little, but no sooner did he open his mouth to speak, Jacob did again. “And John, I swear if you answer that with something telling me about how I need to ‘embrace the power of yes’ more, I’ll save that cop the trouble and slit your throat myself.” Despite the threat itself, John actually laughed a little bit, and unbeknownst to him, Jacob cracked a little grin too.

“You know that would require you to leave your little cabin in the woods, right?” John was still smiling somewhat as he spoke, and it only grew when Jacob sighed. “One more. I’ll send you one more group, but you’re bothering Faith or Joseph after that.”

“And?”

John swore he could hear Jacob muttering something about how he was on thin fucking ice right now, but he at least got a proper response from him. “And I’ll make sure that they actually get there.” Jacob had trouble saying no to his baby brother and John knew it and abused it.

\--------------  
You’d been keeping yourself busy (or rather the folks in Holland Valley had been keeping you busy) with all sorts of tasks here and there. You’d gotten a little bit of rest after bringing the Widowmaker back home, courtesy of Mary May offering you a little room upstairs for a couple hours. It was nothing grand, but damn if sleep didn’t feel good. You might’ve been able to carry on for a couple more hours before you pretty much passed out, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. There was a lot to be done yes, but you had a moment of peace and elected to use it.

Once you were up, had some cognitive function, and weren’t at risk of falling asleep, you were back on the job. You had absolutely no idea about what you were getting yourself into when you resolved to head over to a place that had caught your attention of your map earlier, before you had even reached Fall’s End: Rye and Sons Aviation. 

Your thought process that any place with a function plane or two and a landing strip could only been good news. You were sure that the cult thought that too, and you weren’t surprised to find them there when you arrived. Clearing the area took a bit of work of course, but overall it was nothing to worry over and wasn’t that difficult to do. Especially with some help from the man there who you had assumed to be the owner, but later learned the name of. Nick Rye. It suited him pretty well, you thought.

What you hadn’t been thinking of, or even been expecting in the slightest, was all hell that broke loose when you did actually help him. Flying a plane was absolutely not your forte, and you were thoroughly surprised and a bit impressed with yourself that you had managed to keep yourself from going down in a horrid ball of flames. And that was just flying it. Coming to land was another matter and you were pretty sure that you would have a panic attack then and their. Your resolve held just fine, and you managed to land without any problems, Nick running out to greet your return.

You eagerly got out, letting him inspect his plane, finding it exactly as it had left, save for just a couple scratches and bullet holes, but no actual damage otherwise. That seemed good enough for him though.

“Hey, Nick.” You called, voice strained just a touch as you helped turn the plane right back around, prepared for takeoff when needed. He didn’t answer you verbally, but did glance up questioningly. “Don’t ever let me get back in one of these fucking things ever again.” A bark of laughter left him at that. “What, my pride and joy ain’t up to your standards?” It was your turn to laugh at that, releasing the plane and dusting your hands off.

You liked Nick, but you liked his wife even more. A strong, sharp woman who definitely hadn’t let her pregnancy dull her fight in the slightest. She was good people and another reminder of what you were doing here. Why you were doing it instead of turning tail and running, hoping you might make it to some other town, maybe Missoula, before the cult caught wind and caught up.

You could do this, and you intended to give them the life they once had. The life that everyone here deserved. 

So with a promise to Kim that you would keep an eye on her husband if you ever needed his help, you headed off again. You had heard word that another woman, Grace if you remembered right, needed some help too, and that was your next target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna get into more about/with the reader next chapter, don't you worry!


End file.
